


The More The Merrier

by blythechild



Category: V for Vendetta (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Children, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-16
Updated: 2012-02-16
Packaged: 2017-10-31 07:15:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/341356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blythechild/pseuds/blythechild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In an alternate universe, Evey has a family with V. She returns to the Shadow Gallery from the market with a little something extra for them all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The More The Merrier

**Author's Note:**

> This is pure fluff. Super-extra-fluffy stuff.
> 
> This is fanfiction and as such I do not claim ownership over the characters herein. It was created as a personal entertainment.

As Evey walked through the streets of downtown, she secretly cursed herself for not taking the car that morning. Yes, she hated driving the thing and there was never anywhere to park at the farmer’s market, but her arms were aching and she couldn’t get as many groceries as she would’ve liked knowing that she would have to lug them 26 blocks back to the Gallery. She wondered absently what V was doing with his Saturday morning. She would know soon enough, she supposed.

As she laboriously made her way underground through the maze of dead ends and switchbacks that disguised the Gallery from the surface, she swore that she heard music. As she got to the Shadow Gallery’s four inch thick steel entrance she was certain: disco. She swung open the door and was aurally assailed by “I Will Survive” by Gloria Gaynor playing as loud as it would go. As she shut the door – thank god that they were so deep underground that no one would hear disco emanating from the sewer grates – she was about to yell out something but realized how futile it would be. She padded into the main gallery and discovered V choreographing their 3 children to the insouciant dance classic. The ruckus was joyous in its abandon as well as its ridiculousness. Her eldest, Vincent, was shoo-bopping with his younger sister, Lainey, complete with hand movements that they were mimicking from their father. They danced on either side of her youngest daughter, Quehn, who, at just shy of 3 years old, was clearly the handful of the bunch. Quehn was doing her best to lip-synch the main vocals but was pretty much making up the words as she went along. Lainey saw her mother first and broke off in mid shoo-bop to run to her. “Mum!” she called out, as the other two quickly followed her. She bent down with the grocery bags to hug them and was nearly knocked over when Quehn ran into her and forgot to stop. V went to turn down the music.

Much excited chattering followed about the music and what else they had done with their Saturday. Evey loved these moments the best: she knew from experience that a happy family was a rare thing and, though her family was far from normal, she reveled in their contentment that she suspected most average households would envy. V walked up to her and kissed her gently on the cheek “Hello, Mum” he murmured. She smiled openly and said, “What, exactly, were you all doing?”

“It’s called “disco”, Mum.” Said Vincent authoritatively before looking to V and adding “But sometimes it’s called “Motown” ‘cause that’s where it came from. Right, Dad?” Vincent was a mature 10 years old but would follow his father off of a cliff if directed to do so. He was frighteningly intelligent and soaked up whatever V had to teach him like an unquenchable sponge. He helped his younger sisters with their studies and showed remarkable patience for their “girly” antics. He was dependable and markedly grounded, taking both their unique living situation and his average brotherly duties in stride. Evey felt that he would make a natural leader one day.

“Everything has parents, even music.” V’s voice was warm and generous towards his only son.

Lainey jostled her older brother out of the way. “I’ve made a decision,” she said quietly. Lainey (her full name was Verlaine but V insisted on calling her something “less grandiloquent”) and Evey had a secret rapport. Though she adored her father, she was driven to make him proud of her. With Evey, her 7-year-old daughter felt more relaxed and confided every little thing to her. She was thoughtful, studious and artistic, as evidenced by her permanently disfiguring an irreplaceable Goya painting when she was 4. V kept the painting in his private study and did not think it anything but an improvement on the original. In fact, his study was decorated entirely with Lainey’s drawings. Evey bent down and gave Lainey her ear. “What have you decided?” Lainey cupped her mother’s ear and whispered, “I’m going to be a great artist!” Evey rocked back on her heels and smiled with pride. “I think that’s a good and wise decision, Lainey.” She winked approval at her. Lainey giggled.

“I want to be a giraffe!” yelled Quehn. Evey stared at her youngest in puzzlement, but Quehn just grinned back at her, apparently not prepared to elaborate. V cleared his throat and explained, “Because then she wouldn’t be short.” He shrugged his shoulders slightly and rolled his eyes dramatically. Evey snorted softly as a wide grin transformed her face. V watched in amazement as her eyes lit up from it. She was now in her prime and even more beautiful than when he had first met her. She looked particularly radiant of late. He never would have dreamt from their first troubled encounter that it would lead here, to such unimaginable happiness – let alone fatherhood. When Evey had first announced that she was pregnant with Vincent, he had been utterly terrified. He could not have guessed at the incredible and unique bond that he would feel with each of his children. Their situation necessitated that Evey venture out into the upper world to work leaving V to be the “stay at home dad”. He still made regular appearances as “the terrorist” in London – the city had not changed overnight after his actions on the fifth – mainly to keep the government on it’s toes and accountable. He was an icon of freedom to the people and when he weighed in on a topic, the public responded in unison. Evey had even masterminded an anonymous, digital donation system whereby citizens could financially support V and encourage his work. So, in a way V was earning an income too by fomenting revolution once a month or so. Even so, V considered his full time mission to be his children. Ushering them into the world as intelligent, capable, and principled human beings was his primary passion. Once he couldn’t have imagined living beyond November the fifth, now he couldn’t imagine what would have happened to the world without these three people in it.

“Right then.” said Evey. “Who’s helping with the groceries?” Vincent dutifully stepped forward and Evey gave him the lighter bag. She hoisted the heavier one at V, away from the tiny, upraised arms of her daughters. “Go help your brother, okay?” she said to them, and then turned to V tapping a box in the top of the bag that he held. It was a home pregnancy test. He stared at the box momentarily and then looked at her neutrally “Those farmers are branching out in their services, I see.”

“Oh, V!” cried Evey as she lightly slapped his shoulder. He grinned at her, put down the grocery bag and took her into his arms. “You’re sure then?” he asked. “Pretty sure. I’m not even certain why I bought the test – it’s not like this is new territory, is it?” she said nodding at their children in the kitchen who were fencing each other with vegetables. “V, how many more times can we go through this?” she sighed.

V frowned at her. He knew that she loved her children, but it never occurred to him that the process of baring children was difficult for her. She was in her mid-thirties and could, technically, have children for perhaps another 10 years. He was more astounded that he could still, well, produce – he conservatively estimated that he was in his mid-50s by now. He could have been considerably older. He didn’t know. How many more babies could he chase after before his age caught up with him? “Well, considering how fertile we appear to be, I would imagine that we COULD go through this several more times. Unless we give up sex, that is.” he mused. “Don’t even joke about it!” whispered Evey while squeezing his sides affectionately. “What I mean is every time that I take a leave of absence there are questions to be answered. The Gallery is too small for another child, and I’m concerned about the effect that our current arrangement is having on the kids. They need friends their own age. They need sunshine and the outdoors. They can’t live down here forever, you know.”

This was not the first time that he had heard this from her. Before Quehn was born, they had a similar discussion. V had won her over then but he could tell that he wasn’t going to win this time. She had a point: the Gallery wasn’t meant for a family. He had been selfish all of these years trying to keep his beloveds all to himself. Now he would have to adjust his comfort level to accommodate his family’s needs. One thing was immutable for him: he had to be with them. They would just have to find a way to make it work in the upper world. “Evey, I know that you’re right. I just wanted us to be together in an uncompromised way, but it’s clear to me that the only person who wasn’t compromised was myself. We need to do what is necessary for the kids – you know that I’ll do anything for them.” He looked down at her abdomen and caressed it softly. “Leave it to me. I’ll take care of everything. I have a property in mind, in fact, that will allow us to appear more “normal” while keeping our business private.” He looked her directly in the eyes. “I promise that we can make this work, Evey.”

Evey loved his face. She loved the way that he took her in through every sense. She didn’t even notice the disfigurements or the scars anymore. It was hard for her to picture him in the mask that he used to wear. She couldn’t imagine how she ever felt anything for him when she couldn’t read him. Who falls in love with a mask anyway? But he was a continuous surprise to her. Just when she thought that she knew him thoroughly, he would throw her a curve. Moments after she had given birth to Vincent, for instance, V lobbed his first fastball at her without saying a word. Vincent was perfect, with dark eyes, a full head of hair, and skin the color of mocha. Evey was taken aback. In her denial, she expected some hard questions from V about his newborn son. V was enchanted by Vincent from the first moment and never raised the conversation of his appearance once. Evey was floored. How could she not have known something so basic about her lover? It made sense: a majority of the “undesirables” that were rounded up and sent to various camps like Larkhill were homosexual, political insurgents, or racial minorities. After the “cleansing” England was as lily white as it had ever been in its long history – it was a true rarity to see a person of color anymore. Evey started to critically look at V wondering if he resented her assumptions (for surely he noticed her shock after Vincent’s birth). She felt slightly ashamed of herself for presupposing that her Shakespeare-quoting, Guy Fawkes-emulating man wasn’t white. But then again, how was she supposed to know otherwise, given the state of his disfigurements, if he did not choose to tell her? Lainey was more like her mother, of a lighter complexion, but with the same out-of-control, curly auburn-brown hair that her brother had, and the same dark eyes that both of her parents possessed. Quehn, V’s secret favorite and the recipient of Evey’s bizarrest name selection, was the spitting image of her older brother save for the strange genetic quirk of hazel/green eyes. Clearly, Evey thought, given their genetic pool anything was possible.

Evey returned to the present, and to the arms of V. She smiled at him. “I know that we can do this.” She exhaled as though the journey of a thousand steps lay before her. “This family can do anything.” She smiled more brightly this time. V brushed his lips against her ear. “I love you more than anything, Evey.” Then he kissed her with great tenderness. Across the gallery, a chorus of “Yuck!” and “Awww, GROSS!” whined out of their children, who had obviously tired of parrying with cucumbers. V grinned widely and set off to the kitchen with the remaining groceries, mildly chastising the children for bruising the eggplant.

As always, the future was unclear to Evey. She felt great trepidation at the thought of life in the upper world – especially for V. She had nightmare visions of Lainey or Quehn bringing home dates to meet their parents, or Vincent inviting friends over to hang out. While these were all normal rites of passage that she wanted for her children, she wondered how they all would handle the questions raised by V’s appearance – or mysterious absence, for that matter. It was true that he had not compromised much of himself by keeping his family underground where he felt safe, but she worried that this move to the surface would be too stressful, too much of a burden for him. She couldn’t bear to be separated from him and she was certain that a part of him would die if he remained in the Gallery while his family moved to the surface. There was simply no choice: the children were paramount and they would just have to make the new situation work. That is what V had already assured her of, but as always, it took her a little longer to follow him to the same conclusion. Evey had no idea how things would all unfold, but she had absolute faith that she and V could weather anything. And, though she sounded doubtful about being pregnant for a fourth time to V, she was secretly very happy at the news. She would allow V time to “convince” her of the blessedness of the impending event and selfishly soak up some of his undiluted attention. A wicked little smile curled her lips as she watched her family across the Gallery – she’d need time to come up with a suitably weird name for the baby as well. Suddenly, a wave of nausea washed over her and she covered her mouth and raced to the bathroom. 

The children noticed her mad dash across the room. Quehn looked up from the paper grocery bag that she was massacring and asked, “Where’s Mummy going?” V cleared his throat awkwardly and improvised, “She’s off to wash her hands. A sensible precaution for all before preparing a meal – maybe we should all follow Mum’s example, hmmmm?” Washing and kids don’t go together and V discovered this as he was unceremoniously whacked by a bundle of celery for his suggestion by Lainey. Soon, all three children were involved in the mock attack while V sought to defend himself in vain with a plastic spatula. He heard his own robust laughter with awe, as he always did when he was shocked by his own happiness. Life was nothing if not unexpected – but, much to V and Evey’s surprise, it was unexpectedly wondrous.


End file.
